When I doddle, I don’t get in the way. Why would I? I’m not taking my pen seriously; I’m not taking myself seriously. I’m just doodling.

Sometimes when I pick up my desk and collect all the pieces of scrap paper —lists I’ve written on envelopes, notes I took on the back of a printout, used up Post Its, or slips from a flimsy notepad —a doodle will give me pause.

That’s nice.

I get excited: I should make some art like that!

I try to make the art like that, and I ruin a perfectly good piece of paper.

This happens with writing, too. There’s a creative zone for the flow of lines and words. I show up for it every day. But when I enter with desperation to be as cute and clever as that stuff I doodled or scribbled on a scrap piece of paper during a meeting, I absolutely wreck the zone, strangle the flow.

I’m not sure I’ll ever master entering that zone with absolute confidence. I’m not sure anyone can. The process resets over and over and over. At the intersection of showing up and patience. On the corner of butt-in-the-chair and faith.

It seems contradictory, but here’s the thing. I strive to lead a mindful life while at the same time I set out to create mindlessly, that is, without letting my mind get in the way. Can I do it?

I think so. Mainly because I established a routine of showing up whether I feel like it or not, like I do for meetings. I wait through the sludge of clever monkeys and desperation until the flow breaks through and the lovely lines of doodles come.

Show Up for the Doodle

This week, on Halloween day, I read this passage in Wild Mind by Natalie Goldberg: “When we write, many avenues open up in us, and I have learned to go for the words that call me, that have a shivering possibility. It’s not something I think about. I submerge myself in the pond of darkness and let the electrical animals of thought pass by.” This is why I show up and sit patiently as avenues open up, until I can sink into the delicious mystery of that dark pond of creativity. It’s magical.

©Pennie Nichols. All Rights Reserved. 2024